


Kingly Lovers

by fandomblr



Series: The Elvenking and his Lover [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Barduil - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28388103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomblr/pseuds/fandomblr
Summary: After Bard's coronation, he and Thranduil share a couple of moments after the Elvenking tries to win over his lover's children.
Relationships: Bard the Bowman & Thranduil, Bard the Bowman/Thranduil
Series: The Elvenking and his Lover [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078115
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Kingly Lovers

After days of unceasing preparation, Bard stood in front of the lakemen with Thranduil at his side, ready to be crowned as the new king of Laketown. 

Despite weeks having passed after their declaration of love, Bard could not still believe his good fortune. Who would have thought that the great Elvenking would have fallen for him, a mortal man? Yet here he was besides him, his face enlightened by the shining sun.

“Are you ready?” Thranduil whispered softly. He was clad in a golden robe and his flowing silver hair was adorned with a golden circlet.

Bard assented, and Thranduil held his hand, leading him to the inside of the building. Bard sat in the stiff throne seat uncomfortable while Thranduil stood behind him and took the seat next to him. Soon the room became crowded, and with great unease he saw that his children were seated on the front seat, smiling at him.

Bard froze, and his uneasiness grew into anxiety. His children knew nothing of his relationship with Thranduil, in fact, Bard doubted that they even knew anything about Thranduil himself with the exception of his title as Elvenking. But it had all happened so quickly, far too quickly for his liking… Would they even accept Thranduil into their lives? What would Tilda think of this? And Sigrid? And Bain?

Bard glanced rapidly at Thranduil, not knowing how he would respond to this. Had he expected him for his children to know? But Thranduil’s soft glance, one that was rare and seldom seen by his subjects, told him otherwise as if he comprehended his inner struggle. His hand reached to Bard’s, giving him a rapid caress.

The herald entered the room, and the trumpets began sounding loud and clear. “Hail, King Bard of Laketown, dragonslayer of Smaug the Golden!” He proclaimed, and the people clapping drowned any other sounds. Thranduil handled the crown delicately with his large fair hands, placing it atop Bard’s ebony locks. The clapping roused, and Thranduil lent him his hand, standing up from the throne.

The feast thus commenced, and the multitude soon began the celebration. Bard saw with a slight amount of dread that his children were approaching him and Thranduil. “Da!” Sigrid exclaimed, embracing her father. Bard froze for the second time, not sure what to do with Thranduil in front of him. 

His children were full of questions, as ever. Bard could only help but to smile warmly, and he could swear that there was a shadow of a smile in Thranduil’s face. 

“Is this the Elvenking you talk so much about?” Tilda and Sigrid asked.

Bard snorted, and Thranduil walked up to them. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Prince Bain, and Princess Tilda,” he said in a courteous manner as if he weren't joking along.

“Prince and princess? Since when are we royalty?” Bain asked confusedly.

“Since your father is king, Prince Bain,” Thranduil proclaimed in the same courteous tone.

Bard ruffled Bain’s hair. “Come on, go play with the other kids. Thranduil and I have some things to discuss,” he said cheerfully. 

“What things do you have to discuss?” Tilda asked eagerly as her other siblings left.

“You know, things about the affairs between our kingdoms, politics. Boring stuff,” he said in the same cheerful tone, and Tilda left after having embraced her father once more.

Bard turned to Thranduil, not knowing what to expect from him. Quite to the opposite of what he expected, Thranduil was smiling. “Lovely children of yours. Legolas used to be like them when he was an elfling.”

His remark only made Bard feel even guiltier. “I...I haven’t told them about us…”

His words were softer than earlier. ‘I know. Everything has passed so quickly, I would not expect you to tell them, much less now that you are king.”

“But I will. You do know that, right?”

Thranduil caressed his hand. “Let us not dwell on such a topic right now. You have the full right to enjoy your coronation after so many things have happened. And trust me, I shall make you enjoy your first day of ruling, whether you want to or not,” he said in a falsely threatening tone.

“Very well, my king. And what shall you do to fulfill such a threat?” Bard asked him with a polite, regal voice.

Thranduil looks around the feast, seeing the dancing figures of the Lake-Men. “Dance with me.”

Bard’s expression could not have been more perplexed. “I don’t dance. And besides, I do not think it very common for a male elf to dance with a man…”

Thranduil sighed in exasperation. “Love, you are their king. And kings get to do whatever they want, especially during their coronation.” 

“I take it that you say this from experience,” Bard said jokingly.  
“Indeed, and this is precisely why I demand that you have some fun instead of sitting in your prompt spot like Elrond always does.”

Bard saw that he had no option but to admit the shaming truth. “Thran, when I say I don’t dance is because I literally do not know how to dance. If I never even danced in my own wedding with my deceased wife, how do you expect me to dance here, fifteen years later, in front of all of my subjects?”

“Is that so? Why, I’ll teach you,” he said, a hint of seductiveness in his voice.

Bard knew that Thranduil was as stubborn as his elk and wouldn’t cease until he was satisfied. “I think I have a better idea.”

Thranduil raised one of his perfectly modeled eyebrows, and Bard continued. “Let’s dance with someone else. At least they won’t notice anything between us.” 

Thranduil pouted. “Fine, but if we are going to dance with someone else it has to be with your children. Your Tilda looks as if she would take anyone on the stage right now.”

Bard chuckled. “I think the girls would like that.”

Nothing else was said between them for the remainder of the feast, for they were far too busy swirling around to utter any words. Thranduil danced with Tilda for quite a while, whose cheeks were flustered. Not that she didn’t enjoy it, of course, but rather that she thought herself too lowly to dance with the Elvenking. And when Thranduil was not dancing with Sigrid or Tilda, then Bard was, and eventually, they all ended up in a circle except for Bain, who had gone dancing with one of the Lake-town girls. It was as if they were a huge family, and Bard found comfort in the thought. If his children liked Thranduil as much as they did now, surely there wouldn’t be as many problems when they learned of the truth of their relationship.

After a long time of dancing in a circle, Tilda and Sigrid began dancing together and their father moved away from the main spot, taking Thranduil with him to a much darker area where they would not be seen.

“I didn't know you could dance so well,” Bard said to Thranduil, the both of them sitting on a bench. 

Thranduil flipped his hair in an alluring fashion. “Honey, I am the party king after all. What else could you expect?”

“True,” he chuckled, kissing Thranduil’s lips ever so tenderly. “I should go get the kids to bed. They are as restless as they are eager.”

Thranduil nodded, but as Bard left he halted him with a touch of his hand. “Meet me at my chambers when you are finished.”

Bard raised a startled eyebrow, but he ceded to his lover’s fancy. “Alright then. I’ll see you there,” he said, a smile growing on his face. 

***

“Da?” Tilda asked sleepily, her eyelids nearly closing.

Bard covered her in another blanket.“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Will we see the Elvenking again?”

Bard could not help but smile. “His name is Thranduil, sweetheart, and yes, we will see him again.”

Tilda’s eyelids opened slightly further. “When?”

Bard ruffled her hair affectionately. “Very soon. You’ll see,” he said, and then he kissed her forehead and turned all the lights off. “Sleep tight.”

Bard exited his new residence secretively, making sure not to make any noise. Despite having lived there for over two weeks now, he was not yet accustomed to the commodities and luxuries of royal life. His children were much less so accustomed to their new lifestyle, and he had heard them fuss about why they couldn't sleep in the same room as their father. 

He headed towards the guest room that Thranduil occupied and knocked swiftly. Thranduil opened the door, his blonde hair tied into a ponytail and clad in a light nightgown. “Come in,” his voice was graver than earlier, and it was evident that his mood was changed.

“To what do I owe the honor of coming here, my king?” Bard said flirtatiously, extending his hand towards his.

But Thranduil did not answer, and only turned from him. “Is something wrong?” Bard asked him nervously. What woe ailed Thranduil so? Was he the cause of his affliction?

At last, Thranduil spoke. “It is nothing for you to worry about. There is no need for you to know.”

Bard sighed, seeing that the protective, isolationist personality of Thranduil had returned after their merrymaking. He slightly kissed his back, speaking to him. “Whatever troubles you, I must know about it. I would not have you worry like this, at least not without knowing the cause.”

Thranduil returned his kisses, but they felt distant and remote as if he weren’t kissing the same lips he had done hours ago. “It is but a foolish thought, truly. Nothing else.”

“Foolish or not I must know it if I am to put an end to your woes. What is it?” Bard insisted.

But Thranduil only released his silver hair from its loose ponytail, cascading over his back. No other word was uttered by him, which only increased Bard’s despair. At last, he thought of a desperate explanation, one that he knew to be false yet he thought over it still:

“Is this because of my children? Because I haven't told them about us?”

For once during the whole conversation, Thranduil stood up, with a flash of pain shimmering across his pale icy eyes. “How could you ever think that? Have I not made it clear enough to you that I do not care for such things at the time? That all I want for you is to be as happy as you can right now before dwelling on such thoughts? Did you not believe my words when I told you that I understood?”

Bard was at a lack of words. “I... I thought that was the only possible explanation. You seemed so pained, I… I didn’t know what to think.”

But Thranduil did not heed his message. “Well, you are wrong. Have you not noticed that all I have been trying to do during this whole day is to earn the trust of your children? Their love, if I can even aspire to that? Yet you cannot even see that, because you will not allow yourself to. Will you not even allow yourself to be loved by one that is loved by you, and loves you back?”

“Of course I do…” Bard began feebly, but he was interrupted by Thranduil’s remarks. “All this time I’ve been trying to ease you, to heal your worries… And now you are worrying yourself over my distress when it is I that should tend to yours? You asked me what ails me, but you wouldn’t understand. You do not know what it is to be immortal, to live while all mortals around you die. You do not know what it is to constantly worry that, in a blink of my life, the one I love will be gone forever, and that there is nothing I can do to stop it.”

“Thran…” Bard mumbled, yet he had no more words of comfort to give, for this he knew to be too true. Before knowing of Thranduil’s love for him, Bard thought that the Elvenking would never come to love him, simply because his life was too short, too brief to be compared against an elf’s. Yet now it was a thought that consumed him, that burned in his soul for the pain he might cause Thranduil. Thranduil, whose voice was now breaking, whose eyes were brimful with tears. “Do you want to know what is wrong with me? What foolish desire seeped into me, causing this despair? It is that I love you and that I want to be a part of your life, of your family. It is that I can no longer live without your presence and that I want to be wed with you.”

Silence reigned for the next minutes, since Thranduil’s talking ceased, and Bard was far too astonished to function properly. Yet he gathered the courage to speak after hearing Thranduil’s quiet sobs. “I didn’t know you wanted it that way.”

“What else could I possibly want besides that? Would you truly dare to think that I did not take you seriously?”

Bard shook his head. “There is no way I would think of such things. It is just that our relationship had started so unexpectedly, so soon… I didn’t even think you could love me in the first place.”

After some time, Thranduil replied. “I’ve been too hasty, haven’t I?” He said with clear regret in his voice.

“No, not all. I would rather do it like this,” Bard said soothingly.

Thranduil stared at him in amusement, his face regaining some color. “Are you saying that…”

“Yes, I accept. I, King Bard of Laketown, take you, King Thranduil Oropherion, to be my husband,” Bard said, interlocking his fingers with Thranduil’s.

There was a passionate kiss between the two, and then the both could not help but to chuckle for quite a bit. “Odd way to propose, truly,” Thranduil said.

“Well, you said it yourself; kings can do as they wish.”

“That surely doesn’t excuse me from having a normal proposal. I may be king, but a king still follows the traditions of his people, even if he is marrying another man.” 

“So?” Bard asked him skeptically.

Thranduil kneeled in front of him, opening a small box he had held in his pocket earlier. “Will you, King Bard I of Dale, marry me?

Bard chuckled. “I suppose one can be proposed twice. So yes, I take you, King Thranduil Oropherion, as my husband once more.”

Thranduil initiated a second passionate kiss between them. “I’ll have to write a letter to Legolas soon enough if I hope he can come to our wedding. Hopefully by now he has already met with Aragorn.”

“Mhm. The kids will be delighted, if not a little confused at first. Tilda even asked me if we were to see you again before going to bed.”

Thranduil’s face was illuminated even more. “Did she really?”

“You can ask her yourself if you like. I guess we will have to make her and Sigrid the maids of honor if that makes sense.”

“I bet they’ll love that,” Thranduil said, and his words were sealed by another fervent kiss as they jumped on the bed, two kingly lovers intertwined in their nest of love.


End file.
